First of all, “Cherry” (Apple TV, 02.26.21) is A LOT of Movie. Near 140 minutes of watching two young lives come apart at the seams. At its very base level its designed to be an immersive and visceral experience, even if it’s transporting you to a world (at times) you’d rather not see.
The film begins life almost as a sort of high school coming of age drama, as we witness the meeting, and blossoming love between ‘Cherry’ our nameless lead (Tom Holland) and Emily (Bravo), before an amalgamation of decisions sends them both on a paths (both alone and together) of pain and self-destruction.
Holland and bravo unquestionably shine here, more so in the films earlier (and much stronger half). Conveying the sense of longing for one another, even though it seems like much of their early life hit the cutting room floor.
What follows is undoubtedly watchable. Holland’s sheer willingness to squeeze out every ounce of pain through his character works well, as he slowly begins a downward spiral, dragging his wife down with him.
The film hits its stride whenever the two are on screen together, a pair so unwilling to divide and accept what might be better for each of them even when you think they can’t hang on any longer. Not only is this a solidification of Holland’s ability to carry dramatic roles and lead these types of films, but it’s a fantastic breakout for Bravo. As Emily she goes toe to toe with the MCU alum, stealing scenes and producing a few of the most powerful moments of the year so far.
However, the film’s shortcomings emerge in its balancing act of its main character’s two issues, his PTSD, and his subsequent addiction to drugs.
You get the sense, even with its monster run-time, that it never really hits home on either front. Tossing between the two scene by scene, giving the film some sort of identity crisis. Now it may be possible this was the intent, in order to demonstrate its lead’s life being torn apart from all angles, however this jack of all trades mentality, coupled with the Russo’s desire to whip out every camera trick in the book creates a battle of style and substance, with one wrestling to be on top of the other almost entirely throughout.
While its commitment to dropping in the odd ‘Darkly-comedic’ moment, especially one line from Jack Reynor’saptly named ‘Pills & Coke’ feel at odds with what is unfolding before your eyes.
From the occasional fourth wall break (most of which land) to the aspect ratio changes for different time periods, and the blood red title cards that accompany every chapter, I think it’ssafe to say that while the ambition on show should be admired and applauded for large chunks, it leaves you with a sense of a story only told in part.
Mark this one down in the “I think there was a better film to be made there” camp.
SCORE: C+